


A night like this

by Lestradesexwife



Series: Prompt fills and Random Plot Bunnies. [15]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Partner Swapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 09:20:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lestradesexwife/pseuds/Lestradesexwife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was saying that I didn't think I could Bondlock, and then I woke up yesterday with this little bunny in the corner of my brain.<br/>And then I tried to give them a reason to be in the same room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A night like this

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Monster, Aria, Provocatrixxx and all the other lovely people of Antidiogenes.

They’d met before, well more like passed like ships in the night. Bond was doing... well whatever MI6 did, and John was just a convenient medical man. Bond, always the type to patch himself up, hadn’t refused the assistance. Had even filed John away in his memory, handy in a fight, smart and an outstanding field surgeon.

********  


He’d been invalided home before Bond could get around again to recruit him for MI6.

********  


In some ways Bond lived under a rock, the events at home, they weren’t his division so he tended to ignore them. If he paid too much attention he was overly tempted to “fix” things. Something Q frowned on, not so much for the paperwork or for the electronic work of erasing Bond from security footage, because it took time away from him. “When you are away,” And Q’s hands had mimed an airplane taking off, “England can have you.” Bond smiled, knowing Q didn’t truly relinquish control even when he was away.

********  


Moriarty had existed on both sides of Bond’s life, and when he saw the photo of John he’d immediately recognized the soldier who had patched him up a lifetime ago. The grief on John’s face had been enough to convince Bond to look him up the next time he was home.

********  


Of course it turned out that he wasn’t the only one to specialize in resurrection.

********  


It had been months, before he was able to take an actual break, afterwards. Three days before he surfaced again, Q working through his separation anxiety and putting them back together. Bond wasn’t actually surprised when Q produced a file on Watson, if Q could not find information it likely didn’t exist. He carefully extracted contact details and left the rest of the information alone, he didn’t need to know much about Watson to know that they were cut from the same cloth. Q suggested an indirect route to contact Watson, and helped him draft an email to send through John’s blog.

********  


Bond watched Q the entire time seeking any signs of jealousy or reluctance. He wasn’t sure what Q expected to happen, but he seemed ready for anything.

********  


In the end he needn’t have worried. Sherlock and Q’s brains operated in disturbingly similar ways. Almost immediately once the waiter seated them they were off, floating on a sea of technical jargon that Bond had heard before but didn’t fully understand. Watson ordered for Sherlock and Bond for Q, and they shared a small amused look as the two men ate absently while they talked. Bond let John talk about his exploits with Sherlock, and John didn’t bother to ask him what he had been up to. John’s stories were dangerous and told with the wicked humour of a soldier, and Bond remembered again that he had wanted to bring Watson into MI6. Although it seemed unlikely that he would allow himself to be separated from Sherlock.

********  


After dinner they herded their respective geniuses into a cab, Bond gave his address, then tilted his head at John, seeking permission.

********  


John looked over at Sherlock, he knew Sherlock was perfectly capable of faking emotional and sexual interest, but everything in his body language read as true attraction. He didn’t have enough data to make a judgement about Q, but from the look Bond had given them he assumed the attraction was mutual.

********  


John licked his lips, just a brush of the tip of his tongue, and allowed his legs to relax into the tangle made by the other three.

********  


The apartment that Bond and Q shared was partly nearly obscenely posh and part mad genius lair. Sherlock and Q made for the gadgets immediately, and Bond called after them, “Q?”

********  


Q scoffed, “His clearance is as high as yours James. Same as Watson.”

********  


Bond’s eyebrows rose at that, but his shoulders relaxed slightly and he turned to John. “What’s your poison?”

********  


“I’m not choosy, whiskey if you have it, but whatever you are having is fine with me.” Only half of John’s attention was on Bond, his eyes tracked Q and Sherlock as they moved from project to project. “I’m not sure it is safe to leave them alone, they might invent... I dunno time travel or something.”

********  


Bond pressed a crystal tumbler into John’s hand and John took a sip before he even looked at the contents. Appreciation and enjoyment showed on his face once the liquid hit his tongue and he raised the glass in salute to Bond. “Cheers.”

********  


Bond used his glass to indicate one of the two couches that made up their sitting room, “Do I want to know the story behind your clearance levels?” He asked as they settled facing each other on the couch.

********  


John made a face and took another sip before answering, “Mycroft, Sherlock’s brother. Officious bastard, still not sure what he really does. I think it was all in self-defense, he couldn’t stop Sherlock from finding out,” John waves his free hand, careful of the scotch. “everything, and by extension explaining it to me. So it was either give us clearance or toss us in the brig. And Sherlock is too useful to lock up.”

********  


“John!” Sherlock’s excited cry caused John’s head to pivot slowly towards him, “John he has an Enigma machine!”

********  


“That’s lovely Sherlock.” John’s smile was fond, and when he turned back Bond was pressed close into his space, his arm draped behind John over the back of the couch. “Subtle Mr. Bond.”

********  


Bond chuckled darkly as John’s smile morphed from fond to wicked in less than 3 seconds.

John didn’t pull away from Bond, nor did he snuggle close. John simply relaxed into the couch and slowly sipped his whiskey, savouring each mouthful. And if Bond just happened to take note of the presence of Watson’s tongue in the corner of his mouth, or running over his bottom lip, well surely there was no harm in that.

********  


As John finished his glass Q and Sherlock took up residence on the facing sofa, still engaged in animated intellectual foreplay. John leaned forward and set his glass down on a convenient coaster. When he sat back he allowed himself to fall into the semi-circle of Bond’s arm. “Look at them... well all of us really. I need to go on the rack for a bit, and then we’d be a matched set.”

********  


Bond swirled the last sip of scotch around his glass, avoiding saying something trite. He drained the glass and set it down on the side table to avoid having to move forward and break contact with John.

********  


John smiled, watching the two geniuses orbit ever closer to each other. He wondered which one would break first, they both seemed reluctant to stop talking. “Well done, not saying anything at all if you can’t say something nice.”

********  


“John.” The tone of Bond’s voice indicated all John needed to hear, without condescending. John knew that Bond would never judge him on his appearance, and John took comfort knowing that he was just as dangerous in his own way as Bond. Although he had to admit Bond most likely had more occasion to practice. John’s heart thumped with the force of wanting more suddenly. He wasn’t sure how to move from this to the images that had flooded his imagination all throughout dinner.

********  


“It sounds incredibly cheesy, but I don’t think they will... shall we see if we can distract them?”

********  


Arousal, relief and excitement coursed through John as Bond gave him an opening to shift against him, turning in and shifting up to meet Bond’s lips. Bond’s arm dropped off the back of the sofa and pulled John closer. After that John lost track of time, only coming back to himself at a short “Oh!” from Q. (Which felt, strangely, like losing a bet.) John’s fingers were working at the buttons of Bond’s shirt. Only Bond’s arm, firm against his back prevented him from bolting off the sofa. Suddenly unsure of himself, thinking he had misread the whole situation.

********  


He pulled away slowly from Bond, shifting as little as possible until he could see the other couch again. Sherlock was staring at them, his hand resting high on Q’s thigh (and maybe John hadn’t lost the bet after all) later John would marvel at the identical expressions of desire on their faces.

********  


Bond shifted his arm over John’s head and checked his watch, “For two of the most observant men on the planet, you are horribly slow.”

********  


“James.” Q’s voice was stern,filthy with lust, and had John shifting his hips against Bond’s thigh.

********  


Sherlock’s eyes flickered over John, catching on the movement of his hips, he opened his mouth to speak and John thought that it was over. Sherlock would safeword and they would go home. Instead Sherlock’s hand moved incrementally on Q’s thigh, and John watched Sherlock shift gears, relaxing back into the couch and letting his guard down.

********  


John exhaled and turned back to Bond, freeing him from the last of his shirt buttons. Trying not to feel the weight of Sherlock and Q staring at him from across the room. His fingers skim over Bond’s stomach, and he allows himself a moment of envy. John takes good care of himself, running around after Sherlock is a full time job and a lot like working out. Bond must spend his entire life in a gym to maintain this body and John doesn’t want that for himself, he’s happy enough with rugby on weekends. His cock twitched at the idea of stripping him naked and spreading Bond out under him. He hasn’t missed the way Bond has watched his lips all evening, and yes that is a brilliant idea.

********  


John lifts an eyebrow at Bond, and shamelessly runs his tongue over his bottom lip. If he is going to do this he is going to have fun with it. Bond responds by unlatching his trousers with his free hand, and John huffs out a breath, not quite a laugh.

********  


“Bloody bespoke tailoring, I suppose I should be grateful you lot aren’t sewn into your trousers.” He murmurs at Bond’s quirked eyebrow. Bond just smiles and lifts his hips, sliding the offending garment down and off, shaking them out before tossing them over the coffee table. John licks his lips again, without artifice, the sight of Bond in just an open dress shirt and pants decreases the blood flow to John’s brain.

********  


John doesn’t want a lot of preamble, he can tell from the hard length pressing against Bond’s pants that there has been enough foreplay. “Can you...” His head jerks to the arm of the sofa, wide enough for Bond to lean against and high enough that John won’t have to fold himself awkwardly. Bond shifts and surges and suddenly John is standing, pressed against Bond’s body between his legs, so that if he rolls his hips just so he can press his cock against Bond’s. It has no right to feel as good as it does, with so many layers still between them. The small greedy noise that escapes Bond’s throat is meant only for John.  

********  


There is very little on planet Earth that will make John Watson weak in the knees, but that sound and the idea that he might be able to bring it about again sends him promptly to the floor. He can’t spare the energy or attention to look back at Sherlock and Q, he isn’t even sure which of them moaned, it might have been both. John concentrated on shifting Bond so he could divest him of his pants, it took all of his considerable willpower to not just swallow Bond down once his cock was free. He forced himself to go slowly, well at least slower, giving in to the urge to tease and make this last as long as he can.

********  


Bond twitches and John looks up, seeing the long line of Bond’s chest framed by his shirt and then the smooth long line of his neck, head thrown back, already given over and John hasn’t even really started yet.

The rational, doctor part of his brain is screaming at him to stop, to ask for a condom. Q’s voice breaks the silence, “He’s just back from medical, we are clean.” John would wonder when he had more cognitive ability if Q was responding to something Sherlock had said or if he could actually could read minds.

********  


John smiles and swipes his tongue over the head of Bond’s cock, savouring the taste of precome and testosterone. He can see Bond’s hands clench on his thighs, feels the subtle shifts in Bond’s weight that mean he is stopping himself from pushing into John’s mouth. He smiled, a wicked grin that no one will see and wraps his lips around Bond’s cock, sliding slowly down the shaft until his nose brushed against Bond’s stomach. He held him there, just letting his tongue play along the underside until he was rewarded with the same small noise from Bond.

********  


He’s slow and careful on the upstroke, holding back and letting the tension he can feel in Bond’s body build. He pulls off gently, letting his tongue linger over the slit. Bond’s fingers are pressing white marks into his thighs and Bond’s eyes are closed, his chin dropped down against his chest. John forms a tight circle with his mouth and slides slowly down again, this time when he reaches the base he swallows and twists his head to the side letting his lips rest against Bond’s groin for a moment before pulling back and establishing a gentle pace, slow swirling of his tongue as he surrounds the head before he slides back down again. Motions designed to either force Bond to beg for more, or cause him to snap breaking his civil demeanor and grab at the back of John’s head and fuck his mouth deep and hard. John doesn’t care which, the power to make it happen sends a surge of pleasure to his cock.

********  


He’s tempted to unbutton his fly and stroke himself in time with his mouth on Bond. The only thing that stops him is the chance that if Bond begs he will beg John to fuck him. John moans around his cock because won’t it be delicious to draw _that_ out as long as he can as well?

********  


His jaw is starting to ache, and he is starting to think about speeding up to finish Bond off, swallowing less deeply and adding more friction around the head when Sherlock ruins everything, “He can... you can... _fuck_... do it harder Bond. _jesus_...”

********  


John has one instant to wonder what Q was doing that had caused Sherlock’s brain to short circuit, and another to begin to plot his revenge before Bond shifts forward slightly and wraps his hand around the back of John’s head.The change in angle is enough that it forces John back onto his heels, and without Bond’s hand he would likely tip over from the force of the thrust that follows the shift in power. John groans as Bond’s cock pushes against the back of his throat, swallowing convulsively around his nearly suppressed gag reflex. He lets his arms fall to his side, to regain what he can of his balance, and spares a glance upwards. He groans as Bond meets his eyes briefly before his head falls back again and he abandons all of his previous restraint. Pumping his hips in short sharp jerks into John’s mouth. John lets his eyes close, letting himself savour the friction caused by Bond’s cock over his lips, his tongue seems to be moving of its own accord, swiping along the flat, swirling over the head when Bond pulls back.

********  


He groans because it is perfect, exactly how he imagined it and he wants more, he wants to feel Bond press against the back of his throat as his hips stutter and shake against his lips. He wants to feel the hot flood of Bond’s come in his mouth, at the same time as he wants just this all night. He feels powerful, as though he and Bond have created a filthy perpetual motion device. He groans at the idea of spending eternity on his knees, with his lips wrapped tight around Bond.

********  


“God, you do love it.”

********  


John’s eyes snap open and he looks up to see Bond watching him intently, or rather watching the spot where his cock disappears into John’s mouth. John moans his agreement and hollows his cheeks. Obviously he is not doing enough if Bond can string together five words, even if they were all monosyllables.

********  


John’s fingers are aching from the effort necessary not to touch himself. But he is rewarded finally by the sound of Q, as broken as Sherlock had been, “James, please James, I want to watch him fuck you.” It was almost enough to push John over the edge, without ever touching his cock. John’s long low growl did push Bond over, and John had to fight again not to come, swallowing deliberately around the pulses of Bond’s orgasm.

********  


As Bond’s hips stilled John huffed out a contented sigh, he could easily stay like this as well, the evidence of Bond’s pleasure on his lips. The pleasant sting of Bond’s fingers twisting tightly in his hair. Bond would get hard again if he stayed in John’s mouth, and John started slow, sliding his tongue gently over sensitive skin. Bond hissed and pumped his hips twice into John’s mouth before releasing his grip on John’s hair and pulling out of his mouth. John moaned at the emptiness that Bond’s cock left.

********  


“God, give me an hour. Better yet, fuck me for an hour.”

********  


John’s cock twitches, impossibly harder in his trousers, “You don’t have to... I can.”

********  


Bond ignores him, leaning over the arm of the sofa and opening an ornate wooden box, which of course contains a stash of condoms and lube. John laughs, wondering how he ended up starring in a granted amazing porno. Bond’s fingers catch on a condom packet and Q surprises John by saying “No.”

********  


John stutters, trying to form a coherent argument for the use of protection. Looking at the two men on the other couch for the first time since they took note of what he and Bond were doing. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but this wasn’t it. Sherlock and Q have obviously been kissing, but they are still fully dressed, not a button undone or a stitch out of place. Sherlock’s hair was a mess, Q had obviously been pulling on it. But Q’s hair looked much the same as it had before this had started. Sherlock’s pupils were blown and they were both flushed, John could feel the desire rolling off them.

********  


Q’s fingers twitched on Sherlock’s thigh, “I have access to every record and detail of your lives, I know more about you than you do. James prefers not to use them, and you are both clean. I’ve been fucking him pretty solidly for the last three days, so I don’t think he will need much in the way of preparation.”

********  


John’s brain stops working, and he closes his mouth with a snap. He doesn’t protest as Bond shifts him back onto the couch, lets Bond press him back against the cushions with a hard kiss. Still can’t think of anything eloquent or even English to say as Bond’s fingers untangle his fly and strip him of his trousers and pants in one swift motion. Even manages to lift up his hips a bit to help.

********  


Bond’s fingers are cool and slick with lube when they finally close over John’s cock. Which does nothing to lessen John’s arousal, he knows even though it pains him to admit it that he will not last an hour. He sighs as Bond’s hand leaves him, the sigh has barely passed his lips when it turns into a moan as Bond is coaxing his cock into his arse. John tightens his fingers on Bond’s thighs and resists the urge to slam into the other man.

********  


Bond leans down and kisses him, folding himself in half even as he slips further down on John’s cock. John grabs at Bond’s face and holds him close, “Are you doing this so they can see?” barely sound just John breathing into Bond’s mouth.

********  


In answer Bond arches his back and strips off his shirt, tossing it carelessly into the corner of the couch. John’s fingers dig into the muscle of Bond’s hips, and Bond pins John to the sofa, using the leverage to slowly drag himself along the full length of John’s cock. “Fuck, tease.”

********  


Bond laughs, “You started it.” He groans as he bottoms out and John twitches ineffectively, pinned by Bond’s weight, even with his feet on the floor he can’t resist gravity enough to push himself deeper into James.

********  


The harsh sound of Sherlock’s groan, partly cut off, has John trying to see around Bond. “Don’t worry about them, concentrate on this,” Bond jerks his hips hard, pushing John farther inside, “they can take care of themselves.”

********  


“Well, go on then, do your worst.”

********  


His head crashes back against the sofa as Bond immediately starts fucking himself hard on John’s cock. He thinks he is going to come immediately, but somehow Bond regulates his thrusts and holds John just at the brink.

********  


John’s heart is pounding, and he has been reduced to a string of groans and muttered _“fuck, fuck fuck fuck”_ it seems that Bond is trying to give John a heart attack, and that he will never come, despite the hot waves of pleasure that come with every snap of Bond’s hips.

****  
****

He’s forgotten Q and Sherlock in his need to force Bond just a little farther down onto his cock. He has a sudden crystal clear image of his cock sliding into Bond, as seen from the other couch, before the broken sound of Q calling Bond’s name and the wordless familiar sound of Sherlock coming pushes him over the edge.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well I hope it was worth the wait. Let me know if you see anything that needs fixing. As usual unbeta'd or brit-picked.


End file.
